The Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Warton ... Fifth Edition, Corrected and Enlarged. To which are now added Inscriptionum Romanarum Delectus, and An Inaugural Speech As Camden Professor of History, never before published. Together with Memoirs of his Life and Writings; and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Richard Mant |
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THE CASTLE BARBER's SOLILOQUY.
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 | The Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Warton |  |
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THE CASTLE BARBER's SOLILOQUY.
WRITTEN IN THE LATE WAR.
I who with such success—alas! till
The war came on—have shav'd the Castle;
Who by the nose, with hand unshaken,
The boldest heroes oft have taken;
In humble strain am doom'd to mourn
My fortune chang'd, and state forlorn!
My soap scarce ventures into froth,
My razors rust in idle sloth!
Wisdom! to you my verse appeals;
You share the griefs your Barber feels:
Scarce comes a student once a whole age,
To stock your desolated college.
Our trade how ill an army suits!
This comes of picking up recruits.
Lost is the Robber's occupation;
No robbing thrives—but of the nation:
For hardy necks no rope is twisted,
And e'en the hangman's self is listed.—
Thy Publishers, O mighty Jackson!
With scarce a scanty coat their backs on,
Warning to youth no longer teach,
Nor live upon a dying speech.
In cassock clad, for want of breeches,
No more the Castle-Chaplain preaches.
Oh! were our troops but safely landed,
And every regiment disbanded!
They'd make, I trust, a new campaign
On Henley's hill, or Campsfield's plain:
Destin'd at home, in peaceful state,
By me fresh-shav'd, to meet their fate!
The war came on—have shav'd the Castle;
Who by the nose, with hand unshaken,
The boldest heroes oft have taken;
In humble strain am doom'd to mourn
My fortune chang'd, and state forlorn!
My soap scarce ventures into froth,
My razors rust in idle sloth!
Wisdom! to you my verse appeals;
You share the griefs your Barber feels:
Scarce comes a student once a whole age,
To stock your desolated college.
207
This comes of picking up recruits.
Lost is the Robber's occupation;
No robbing thrives—but of the nation:
For hardy necks no rope is twisted,
And e'en the hangman's self is listed.—
Thy Publishers, O mighty Jackson!
With scarce a scanty coat their backs on,
Warning to youth no longer teach,
Nor live upon a dying speech.
In cassock clad, for want of breeches,
No more the Castle-Chaplain preaches.
Oh! were our troops but safely landed,
And every regiment disbanded!
They'd make, I trust, a new campaign
On Henley's hill, or Campsfield's plain:
Destin'd at home, in peaceful state,
By me fresh-shav'd, to meet their fate!
Regard, ye Justices of Peace!
The Castle-Barber's piteous case:
And kindly make some snug addition,
To better his distrest condition.
Not that I mean, by such expressions,
To shave your Worships at the sessions;
Or would, with vain presumption big,
Aspire to comb the Judge's wig:—
Far less ambitious thoughts are mine,
Far humbler hopes my views confine.—
Then think not that I ask amiss;
My small request is only this,
That I, by leave of Leigh or Pardo,
May, with the Castle—shave Bocardo.
The Castle-Barber's piteous case:
And kindly make some snug addition,
To better his distrest condition.
Not that I mean, by such expressions,
To shave your Worships at the sessions;
Or would, with vain presumption big,
Aspire to comb the Judge's wig:—
208
Far humbler hopes my views confine.—
Then think not that I ask amiss;
My small request is only this,
That I, by leave of Leigh or Pardo,
May, with the Castle—shave Bocardo.
Thus, as at Jesus oft I've heard,
Rough servitors in Wales preferr'd,
The Joneses, Morgans, and Ap-Rices,
Keep fiddles with their Benefices.
Rough servitors in Wales preferr'd,
The Joneses, Morgans, and Ap-Rices,
Keep fiddles with their Benefices.
| The Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Warton | |